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wouldn't do anything until he had left. He understood, nodded, still looking stunned, and then turned
and left the room.
I was quite a bit more tired than I had
anticipated, and the effort to undress and get myself
into my nightgown was exhausting. It seemed to take
forever, too. By the time I had pulled myself under the
cover and lowered my head to the pillow, I was
drained. In moments I was asleep.
I woke abruptly. It took me a few moments to
acclimate myself again, and when I looked at the
clock by the side of-the bed, I realized I had slept into
the middle of the night. The house was as quiet as a
funeral parlor; my curtains had been drawn closed,
and only that small, weak lamp in the sitting room
was on, casting long, thin pale-yellow shadows over
the walls.
My stomach churned and growled, complaining
because I had slept right through supper. I pulled
myself into a sitting position. Why hadn't Tony woken
me to eat? Rye had not come in and left a tray of food
here, either.
"Tony?" I called. There was no answer, nor did
I hear him stirring about in the sitting room. "Tony?" I
raised my voice and waited again, but still there was
no response. "Tony!" I screamed.
I expected he would come charging in after that
outburst to chastise me for sleeping through supper,
blaming it on my excursion over the grounds of
Farthy. But he didn't come. All remained quiet, still. I reached over to turn on the lamp on the night
table, deciding that I would get up and out of bed,
